


Fen'Namas Deleted Scenes: The Smut & Scraps You Never Saw

by Mithrakana



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Deleted Scenes, Dominance, Double Penetration, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Interracial By Fantasy Standards, M/M, Masturbation, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-04-26
Packaged: 2018-03-14 00:18:19
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3401468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithrakana/pseuds/Mithrakana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"<b>Should not</b> and <b>will not</b> are by no means the same, <i>da’len."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Clan Lavellan's Taboos / You Will Not Deny Me Chocolate (SP 15.1)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Sovereignty's Price](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3233090) by [Mithrakana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithrakana/pseuds/Mithrakana). 



> You thought the Star Wars Holiday Special had it bad.
> 
> Presented in no particular order: Alternate and/or deleted scenes from both The Rise of Fen'Namas (RF) and Sovereignty's Price (SP).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first half of that bath tub sex you never saw. 
> 
> Happy Belated, Unsatisfying Valentine's Day! Don't say Mama never gave you nothin'!

Passing time pulled immortal lovers ever closer to the tub that waited in the center of the room. Though the invitation had been hers, she slid wordlessly from underneath him when his tongue came lapping at her wrist. She fought grinning at how eagerly her Fen’Harel gave chase.

Through panes of rippling glass, Fen’Namas beheld the onset of another day. The naked god she worshipped kept her back, and he was warm. Possessive fingers idly fussed a seam of lace that ran across her belly, his breath tickling her eartip as he brought his chin against her golden hair to share her line of sight and watch the sun. They shared a spanning silence, as the pair was wont to do.

Until he broke their peace with a high-and-mighty scoff, so sincere in its disdain she could not help but snort with laughter. Only Fen’Harel could pack a quiet whisper so chock-full with resentment.

 _“Fenedhis lasa._ The **gall** of you, you swindling _shemlen_ king.”

She craned her neck to see him, found his visage glaring left. Her eyes followed his attention as she chided Fen’Harel for grousing.

 _“Ma lath_ is _such_ a sour old prat! Whatever has my Dread Wolf riled up now? Oh – How _lovely!_ ”

Just out of reach, resting on a tall and narrow table running ‘gainst the wall, she espied the object of his ire: A lovely silver dish of truffles, a pyramid of rich indulgence dusted gold.

Woefully, the Dalish had no ken of chocolate. Una’s Spymaster exposed her palate to its many molten wonders early on, and from there her rapt devotion spread like fire across the plains. In that moment, Lady Lavellan’s list of gifts to grant her people gained a line.

The perfect spheres became at once a fixed point in her mind. She took one foot and leaned left in her lover’s arms to reach. He gave her hand a swat and pinned it to her side. He could barely contain his indignity.

 _“No!_ …Chocolates are a _shemlen_ **courtship** ritual, _vhenan._ You mustn’t accept them.”

She turned astonished in his arms, she found his eyes. She could not believe how _serious_ her godly lover was.

She’d thrown this man face down on the floor in conflict, tricked him into losing nearly everything, cost him blood and flesh and secrets in a crowd of people with her negligence.

Only _now,_ when she moved to take the simplest pleasure in a gift bestowed upon her by another man, did Una come to witness Fen’Harel’s hurt feelings. She hadn’t witnessed this expression since the night he set her free.

Though many women may consider such reactions touching, Fen’Namas was gently disappointed.

“Solas, you are behaving like a child. As you well know, fine delicacies also constitute an act of _hospitality_. If His Majesty meant courtship, he would have made the gift in person. I tell you, I felt no romance in the man. _He_ is not the sneaking type. Besides. Is King Alistair not _beneath_ you?”

She watched him find the error in his ways before she finished speaking. His eyes revisited the chocolates to find them harmless, and a relenting sigh rushed from his nose. When her forgiving palm pressed his cheek, he gave a loving smile and turned to kiss her hand. Behind his eyes, she found a tiredness no mortal man could know.

“No more jealousy, sweet wolf. I gladly screamed your name for you, but you will _not_ deny me chocolate.”

 _“Ir abelas, vhenan._ Forgive my callowness. The trials of our fading evening tax me, and I have worried endless over losing you for weeks. At times, I feel the very air conspires to steal your love from me.”

They hugged each other tight, her stately cheek finding familiar purchase on his shoulder.

“Solas. You did not deserve my rancor. I regret the way I spoke to you, _vhenan,_ and I missed you every day.”

“Fen’Namas. What took my rotten heart five thousand years to reconcile took your once-mortal mind two petty months. You hardly owe me an apology.”

She took his chin in her fingers and rose on tip-toes up against his body, nudging noses with a whispered coo.

“I’m so _relieved_ you stayed. Every morning I woke up alone, I was terrified you’d - ”

_“Shhh.”_

His hand behind her head stilled her, and he pecked her with a gentle kiss. He wound her golden tendrils ‘round his fingers as he spoke. _“_ The bond we share is sacred, Fen’Namas. I will _always_ wait for you, and I trust without reserve that you will do the same.

There is much I need to teach you, little goddess. For now, however, only this: Do not for a moment think Elgar’nan and Mythal knew only peace. Even so, their love was absolute, and so is ours. _Ar lath’uth ma, vhenan._ ”

His sweet words set her heart alight, though she did not have a moment to respond. The kiss he gave her then was sweet and true. Tongues that always missed each other shared a cozy morning dance, and his sneaking hands came to rest on her backside’s favored curves. She felt his gentle pull and chuckled sultry in his mouth. _Every_ kiss he gave her came with pressing invitation.

Her wicked heart would have him wait. She broke the kiss, she traced a teasing circle on his chest.

“Solas. You taste a bit like halla innards. Have you been after Ghilan’nain’s blessed beasts again?”

“Hunting halla? I would not _dream_ of such. On the topic, _ma vhenan,_ you taste of fetid _shemlen_ stew.”

She wriggled giddy in his warm embrace, glad to have him playful. Her arms lazed about his neck as she leaned back, eyeing the chocolates with much drama. She heard him laugh, she felt him shift to reach.

 “Very _well,_ My Lady. With palates in such dire need of freshening, I _suppose_ we have no choice.”

Her eyes lidded with smug satisfaction as he popped the gilded truffle in her mouth. _Delicious._

Of course, he took one for himself – she knew his secret penchant for the naughty _shemlen_ treat. Una quickly realized she loved watching Fen’Harel eat chocolate more than she enjoyed the stuff itself.

She watched his eyes slide closed, devoured the hollows of his cheeks as he sucked melting sweetness ‘gainst the roof of his mouth with a hedonistic smile. Unrushed fingers kneaded beatitudes into her supple backside like an enraptured cat.

He spoke then, though his coated tongue was not finished with its work. His words came thick and laden, punctuated with indulgent sucking smacks.

 ** _“Mmm._** If the elves of old had but conceived of chocolate, I should _very much_ have liked to be the god of it.”

She smiled as she watched his reverent face. “Fen’Truffle, _vhenan,_ or Fen’Truf _el?”_

His eyebrows gave a thoughtful quirk. Still, his eyes were closed. “Hmm...neither. _Fen’Cacao_ , perhaps. One’s godly moniker must never sound derivative. Unfortunately, it is taboo for a god to choose his charge and name himself.”

“Oh?”

“Mmhm.”

“And who named you?”

A swallow brought his oral pleasures to an end, and his eyes returned to her. Through all of this, his grip upon her bottom never ceased. That calm and scholarly expression washed his face, even as his backwards footfalls pulled her slow with purpose ‘cross the room.

“Mythal named most of us, as was her place. To name a god is quite an honor – I take great pride in having christened you.”

She kept from grinning as the corner of her eye beheld the glinting copper tub for two. She kept the questions coming, much to their delight. It made her think of early days in Haven, this erudite small talk to disguise forbidden flirting with her _hahren_.

“I am surprised to hear the Elvhen gods _had_ taboos.”

“Yes; certainly, it’s unexpected. The Elvhen, for their flaws, were by and large enlightened. The list of taboos, both for The People and for us, was short and practical.”

One hand left her buttocks then, and he dipped his fingers in the colossal tub. In no time at all, steam began to rise. His eyes never left her, his engaging little smile nothing but professional. Decorum of steel, considering he’d been naked this whole time. She wondered after the pervasiveness of nudity in Elvhenan.

She idly traced the muscles in his arm as she responded. “I always fancied taboos to be rooted in ignorance.”

“Ah, yes. It’s true, societies commonly forbid certain conduct out of ignorance. Elvhenan, though cultured, was no exception. Taboos do _occasionally_ find their roots in wisdom, however. If gods could name themselves, it would incite far too much… _aspiration.”_

He moved to pull her gown over her head, and she gladly lifted her arms to comply. His fingers took their time, paying homage over every mound and curve while guiding gossamer to leave. He dropped the borrowed gown beside the tub and offered up a hand to steady her ascent, bowing like a courtier.

“My Lady.”

They both glanced down to watch her dainty foot find purchase on the wooden step. The tub’s wall was quite high; getting in was not unlike mounting a horse. She gasped with surprise as she nearly slipped inside. His guarding hands would have none of it; he seized her waist and held her fast, mounting the step himself to lean over the tub and guide his love to sit, amused.

“However did you use this troll-sized tub alone, _vhenan?”_

“I was not alone.”

The teasing smile affected him. He squinted playful jealousy and shook his head. He disappeared from view, and she heard quiet splashing – ah. He was washing at his filthy feet in the shallow basin by the tub. So decadent, a bath before a bath.

“Solas, why _are_ your feet so dirty? Where were you last night?”

“Making preparations for your coronation, Fen’Namas. It is dirty work to build the world. Ah, lovely.”

“What?”

He bore her answer with him as he rose back into view, a silver bowl of sparkling minerals and flower petals in his hands. She watched his scrutinizing gaze, watched him give the stuff a sniff and pinch it in his fingers. A curt nod of approval, then. Without further ado, he dumped the whole caboodle in the tub. She squealed and laughed at the eruption of hissing fizz, the water rushing pink.

“Not _all_ of it! The servants only used a handful!”

“A handful may very well slake a mortal’s stench, _vhenan._ Methinks two ancient curs reek of sex and sweat enough to justify the lot.”

“Speak for yourself, old mutt!”

She laughed and splashed him as he hopped artfully into the tub. She wondered _how_ the man could hop into this pink effervescent mess and not look silly. Somehow, he managed.

Even as she squawked at him, she bent her knees a bit to buy him room to sit. Fen’Harel accepted her indignity with unwavering forbearance, sinking back against the metal wall up to his shoulders, head held high. His movement sent the water lapping at her chin. His feet found purchase beside her hips, his knees likewise bent.

The hammered copper walls went higher than their heads when seated. Acoustics made their conversation tinny with fun. His toes twiddled at the flesh beneath her hips as they soaked together. He spoke up to be heard over echoing fizz. _  
_

“I _have_ missed our talks, _vhenan_. I am curious. Enlighten me regarding Clan Lavellan’s taboos.”

The request was innocent enough, and his smile was not overtly wicked. Still, her chin turned with suspicion; Solas rarely asked her questions without ulterior intent. She could not stop her toes from creeping up his inner thighs, and _he_ did not seem to mind.

“The usual – killing animals for sport, lying with _any_ living thing that is not an elf of the opposite sex.”

“Of course. _What else?”_

Her eyes drifted as she thought on it. Her blood leapt with anticipation when she felt his legs begin to shift.

 


	2. I Forgot Their Breakfast. (SP 15.2)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second half of that bath tub sex you never saw. It's not for everyone. Smile?  
> \-----

_“I have missed these talks. I am curious, Una. Enlighten me regarding Clan Lavellan’s taboos.”_

_The request was innocent enough, and his smile was not overtly wicked. Still, her chin turned with suspicion; Solas rarely asked her questions without ulterior intent. She could not stop her toes from creeping up his inner thighs, and he did not seem to mind._

_“The usual – killing animals for sport, lying with any living thing that is not an elf of the opposite sex.”_

_“Of course. **What else?”**_

_Her eyes drifted as she thought on it. Her blood leapt with anticipation when she felt his legs begin to shift._

“Mm-…The list of acts that shame the gods is endless. Killing hawks, killing halla. Neglecting children, spoiling them. Disparaging the Keeper. Eating too much, refusing to eat meat…”

She straightened her legs as he straddled her thighs, rising high upon his knees to rest one elbow on the hammered copper wall. He leaned his head in his hand as he looked down on his seated lover, half-listening to her rambling list of sins that didn’t seem to satisfy his curiosity. Behind him, his toes curled against her leg and made her smile as she continued talking.

“…ah, and carving anything that isn’t rescue-marking in the bark of a tree.”

She noticed then the way distracted eyes were roaming on her face and down into the tinted water. His free hand took permission for granted, sweeping lovely golden hair that dared obstruct his view.

And what a view _she_ had. Una likewise needed no invitation to indulge in her lover’s body; her dripping fingers descended his flinty stomach as she stared transfixed upon his rigid manhood ‘neath the water. The vision drove her loins so mad with lust, she could hardly concentrate on being witty.

“ _Ir abelas, vhenan._ ‘Lying with the Dread Wolf is forbidden.’ Is _that_ what you want to hear?” A teasing chuckle as she cupped what she could fit of him into her hands beneath the water, leaning forward to place a kiss upon his stomach. “Your cock _alone_ makes loving you a sin.”

He chuckled in response and shook his head, still watching from above. “No, silly woman. Fen’Harel is not so vain as that.”

She could only wonder, then, what on earth her sneaking lover wanted her to say. She watched his face go thoughtful as his fingers laced into her own beneath his cock. She guided their meshed fingers to curl around him for an idle stroke that echoed with a rumbling in his chest. At once, his supple wrist sent a barrier around the room.

At least _today_ she’d have her privacy.

Whatever t’was he pondered on, he’d come to some conclusion. She watched his full lips twitching sinister as Fen’Harel made up his secret mind to ends the Lady Lavellan could only wonder at. His voice rang with upbeat finality, the tone of one who slaps his hands together with intent to set to work on something new. Solas projected ‘cross the room, as though he were convincing someone else. “Well, no matter! I can read My Lady’s heart. If she does not _like_ it, I will simply stop.”

She stilled and gave a stunted laugh of wonder. Her head tilted skeptical, once twiddling fingers idling upon his girth.

“If the lady does not like _what_ , now?”

He leaned down to kiss her mouth, he smiled and whispered wicked ‘gainst her lips with breath of molten chocolate.

_“I know my woman. You will **love** it.”_

He took her hands away from fussing at his cock, he scooted back enough to give her room to move. He offered up a supportive palm in loving invitation, his whisper bouncing ‘round the hammered copper tub.

“Get up on your knees, _vhenan,_ and turn around.”

Una was not stupid. Scented water whispered down her body as she held his hand and took her knees. She did not turn around – she leaned into him instead. Nipples soft and warm from soaking in the tub grew tight against his air-chilled skin.

Ah yes, there came his sneaking hands beneath the water, The Dread Wolf’s greatest tell. He cupped the supple backside he’d been hounding ‘round the room all morning. The tips of his fingers ghosted down her cleft, and he whispered once again at her to turn around.

She stayed her ground and smirked, she shook her head. He furrowed then, the scar upon his forehead riding deep with his concern.

“ _Ma sa’lath, ir abelas._ You find being taken from behind offensive.”

“Mmm? I never said as much. In fact, I am quite fond of the position.” She slid her hands behind his head to draw his ear, and her lover bent his neck to listen. “'The  _posture_ doesn't bother me. Our bodies as they are, I do not think your sneaking scheme will... _work."_ _  
_

She drew back to stare him down from t’wixt her golden lashes, watched his face slide into that familiar turf of smug effrontery.  Solas knew then that she knew, and Una knew he knew it.

“Is it quite _easy,_  forgetting that your lover is the greatest mage to walk the earth? If the Elvhen could not use their skills for sex, naïve little _Dali’len,_ there would **be** no gods. We would have never _bothered_ with perfection.”

She chuckled deep and flirty. One hand gave his pompous face a playful shove. He let her have her way with pushing him, _just_ once. Pink water swirled around his hips. “My prideful lover is _insufferable.”_

For the duration of their bath, Una would not mock her godly lover twice.

He pounced her sloshing back against the tub with such constraint her smiting elbows set their hammered copper haven ringing low. She lost her knees, she hit her ass, and he did not apologize.

 _He_ looked down on Una through _his_ lashes now, strong hands gripping at the tub behind her head. With his dripping chest before her face and thewy arms above, Fen’Harel had his lover helplessly surrounded. His commanding presence turned her willing bones to jelly as she blushed beneath him, averting her delighted gaze.

_“If you will not **suffer** him, da’asha, send the sniffing wolf away.”_

Her heart pounded with excitement ‘neath her heaving bosom, her anxious inner thighs squirming vulnerable between his knees. She said nothing, and she did not look at him.

Her silence summoned booming laughter bordering on sinister. _“Ah-hai! **No?** I thought as much.”_

When first they came together, she _commanded_ him to fuck her. Now, instead, the Dread Wolf found his quarry’s invitation passive. Though she did not know it yet, the difference was _huge._ At once, the ancient elf became a force beyond himself.

One hand reached down to grasp her chin, bringing verdant eyes to roost upon his own chaotic visage. Her lashes fluttered closed to deny herself delight in his intensity. His strong hand jerked her jaw, _demanding._

**_“Look at me.”_ **

She obeyed, shivering ‘neath his piercing gaze with her desires both dark and timid. His love _was_ there, hushed by lustful conquest and the will to dominate his shrinking mate. Her submissive mannerisms stoked a certain fire in him, the same flames that garnered Fen’Harel’s terrifying reputation over time.

A strange high, to thrill in being paralyzed by fear. Lady Lavellan could scarcely breathe. _Never_ had the mighty woman ached so badly to be bested, conquered, **_taken._** She hungered for the forcefulness of him so badly that it **hurt,** that certain throbbing need that sends confused young virgins scrambling urgent through their drawers one sunny afternoon for anything, _anything_ that fits inside their screaming, begging bodies.

All the while, she knew his cock was there – _just_ there – though he would not permit her to look down.

Steam rose as the tub grew hotter. _Oh,_ how wrong she was to think her sex could ache no worse. Pulsing heat set her eyelashes fluttering once more, this time unwilling. Her mind went light and dizzy, her head now limp in his relentless grasp.

 He did not kiss her mouth before he spoke, and he did not release her face.

 **_“Woman. Please_ ** _**yourself for me.”**_

She stared with disbelief, just for a moment – his expectant face left her no doubt, narrowed eyes threatening her hesitation. Trembling, she moved to do as he commanded. Her bent knees came to rest beneath his ass, she spread her legs as far as they would go – not far, the way he loomed and pressed.

She was dumb to wrists that ached from bracing ‘gainst the tub. Her cheeks were flushed with heat, with want, with _shame._ Though Una was no maiden, never had she touched herself where other eyes could see. Even if she dared defy him, lust left her tingling cunt so sore she had no _choice._

Two slender fingers rubbed beside her tender clit, two pulsing digits pierced her begging sex. The pleasures only she could bring herself forced tight gasps octaves higher than her voice would ever go, and _oh,_ the satisfaction on his face was _wicked._

Hot water sloshed around her jerking body, sneaking in beside her fingers to fill her core with throbbing heat. Even now, as she set her own hips writhing with her twitching touch, Fen'Harel would yank her chin if Una closed her eyes. The Dread Wolf did not watch her _body_ as his helpless captive finger-fucked herself at his behest; he stared into her soul, feasting on her pleasure and her shame.

As her halting gasps grew closer in succession, the Dread Wolf changed his game. All at once, the friction twixt her backside and the tub gave way. Her feet lost purchase, too, and she began to slide. Her soles scrambled like a fawn on ice, the splashing sounded different – _thick,_ pink water thick and _slick,_ it coated every pore of her with slipping stain.

Fen’Harel, of course, was unaffected. He let her fall a little – just a little. Once he’d had his fill of frightening her, his magic held her shoulders fast against the hammered copper wall. The rest of her was stranded, gripping nothing, gliding. Her hands abandoned pleasure, naturally, to scrabble feeble at the tub.

 _Close,_ she’d been so _**close.**_ He thrummed three fingers on her crimson cheek. Implacable eyes of steely blue would _not_ relent in violating privacy, demanding _more_.

**_“Finish. Now.”_ **

Una flinched from him with a frightened squeak, remembering at once the pressing need between her legs. Though her fingers reassumed their task with timidness, **_Gods._** Whatever spell he'd used to change the bath, her touch now felt _amazing_. Instead of sloshing water, her arms slid against her body with a slipping glide that made her eyes roll back, and that was just her _arms._ She rubbed relentless at the apex of her swollen clit, and her other hand could not resume its probing fast enough.

Her airy gasps were gone; all groans now, each one starting deep and ending with a piercing _whine._ Her head fell back against the tub. Fen’Harel allowed it, though his marred hand still controlled her face.

He said nothing when his free hand reached between her thighs. His forceful fingers dwarfed her own. Three curled around her wrist to hold her probing digits fast. Two slid into her crowded cunt, jamming at her sweet spot without mercy. He filled her to his knuckles, their fists smacking hard against her body. _Oh,_ that splashing noise, the violent way he jerked his arm and held her fast. She came so hard she _screamed,_ her core convulsing ‘round their fingers as she crushed her clit with need, her hips writhing so wildly a lesser man would lose his frantic banging rhythm.

One final shudder as her legs snapped closed around their hands, her debilitated whimper most pathetic. His thumb stroked her silky cheek in hushed affection as Fen'Harel withdrew their come-slicked fingers.

It took all her taxing faculties to breathe. She kept her eyes closed for a time, and he allowed it. Even as he granted her respite, Lady Lavellan could feel the Dread Wolf watching. She sent one sneaking toe to caress the edge of his foot, assuring him that she was pleased.

His whisper came immediate and soft, his dominating will placated by her crashing sacrifice.

_“To know that you have touched yourself to thoughts of me, da’asha – Never has the Dread Wolf received tribute half as lovely. Be still, da’len, that I may grant you pleasure.”_

The water moved to do his bidding then, shifting ‘round her in a transient state of semi-solid gel. _Strange,_ the things his wise old mind concocted. Though Una’s strength did reckon with his own, his creative span of applications stretched innumerable and vast.

Never in her _life_ had Una felt so comfortable. Her back was to him, water rising up beneath her belly, chest and cheek to offer soft support. T’was not unlike lounging on a giant squishy pillow. Magic skill or no, displacement was reality: So much water spent on juicy cushions, its level now sat low around their thighs.

His loving hands eased pressure down her back, compressing slender muscles running ‘long her spine. His touch flowed effortless across her skin, still slick with scented water turned to sensuous purpose. If she were in a reflective state-of-mind, Una may have noted this attention as her first massage. As it was, the lovely woman was so stoned with ecstasy she could not think.

So relaxed was she, his lapping at her backside did not shock or startle her at all. She merely cooed with pleasure as her trusted lover kneaded at her supple flesh, slowly burying his face between the buttocks he had worshipped longer than an image-saving noble-elf of old would _dare_ admit.

 _Heaven._ It was heaven, better than her wildest dreams. Her mind was blissed and gone, her body wholly **his.**

Much to her delight and his, his lips and textured tongue payed homage over every part of her his mouth could reach – one could only wonder how much flower-scented water Fen'Harel imbibed.

His pace kept everything serene, lest he snap her from her reverie with sharpness. One hand gave up kneading at her ass to rub flat-palmed o’er her clit in gentle, muted circles. She purred with moaning when she felt a yielding spongy fullness in her sex that wasn’t him – gelled water once again, though she was _far_ too lost to comprehend or care.

 _Oh,_ what her Skyhold chambermaids would say if they could only watch her Solas planting one last tonguing kiss in that forbidden place, taboo in every culture Thedas knew. He found his feet in silence, aura bidding water stay its rushing tongue as it ran in slippery rivers down his legs. Magic kept his footing as he crouched over his basking lover, intent to show her ecstasies typically denied a woman with only one man in her bed.

He traced a finger down her spine to hear her coo again before he guided his loving cock to furrow twixt uncharted muscles _so_ relaxed by heady spells and lubricant they hummed with jolly welcome.

He waited, gazing o’er her back. He heard his name, _so_ softly. The hand that eased his passage found its purchase on his mate’s inviting rump. He found her clit again, his _fingers_ now, and not his palm.

All at once, Solas began to move.

His rocking strokes inside her arse were long and slow, mimicked by the phantom in her sex. The wetness pooling ‘round her clit was thinner now, her _own_ arousal, no parlor trick of transmutated matter. Fen’Harel was right in doubting her objections; his lover started moaning as before, slurring endless breathless whispers: _Yes. Yes. Yes. Yes. **Yes.**_

There was no violence in him, not for _this_ most intimate pursuit; he had no desire to hammer at his gasping goddess now. **_Gods,_** her arse was **_marvelous,_** both inside and out. Though he acted with her pleasure most sincerely in his mind, _oh,_ how long he’d _ached_ for this, stealing ghosting snatches at murd’rous curves so _lovely_ every shifting footfall of his journeys at her side rent the Dread Wolf's soul in twain with lust.

Four short nails dug half-moons most unwitting in her yielding flesh, _his_ head fell back, _his_ eyelids fluttered shut. He groaned her name through clenching teeth before he began parroting in a sinking timbre: _Yes. **Yes.** **YES.**_

So good. _Too good._ For all his spells and bragging, Solas lost himself to climax so quickly he hardly had time to revel in his fantasy fulfilled. Caught unawares by his own unbridled orgasm, he rushed to bring his lover with him o’er the cliff. _Ah,_ but he was good at it. Even as his boiling hot release exploded deep inside of her, his flicking fingertips and aura-guided body double probing in her cunt sent sweet Una thrashing home with cries of fathomless delight.

He collapsed on top of her, knowing that the hassocked plush beneath her body bore his weight. When she made to mutter something wonderful at him, he stilled her with a tender kiss. Their arms hung limp as the couple basked together, their slippery fingers intertwined.

Solas did not check the placement of the sun, nor did he wonder whether servants had been knocking. He had not yet noticed how his magic tricks tinted Una’s golden hair the color of Miss Madrie’s delectable rosewater cake.

Life’s obligations did catch Fen’Harel’s attention sooner than he liked, however. While cherished Una cooed with drunken giggling beneath him, Solas lost himself to _shemlen_ cursing in her hair of powder pink.

**_“Shit.”_ **

“Mmmmmm?”

A disgusted sigh. “Our people, Fen’Namas. I forgot their breakfast.”


	3. I Could Show You Mine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prequel fragment! We'll flesh it out in time. (With the sex, I'm saying. I mean, you _know_ me.)

“No.”

Una chortled, charmed and disbelieving. As they conversed before her modest hearth, she worked to loose her braids and peered surprise at that endearing, ghastly face. Throughout the whole encounter, Compassion squirmed uneasily as only he could do.

_“No?”_

“You’re…fuzzy, heat that aches like burning. You know better. He’s a _Templar._ I’m not leaving.”

“Commander Rutherford forsook the Order as a conscientious objector. I’ve naught to fear from him.”

“…I don’t like it.” Cole plopped his bottom on the newly christened Inquisitor’s bed. “I’m staying.”

Her stern glare did not budge him. When she touched his cheek in comfort, Compassion’s face took on confusion. _Ah,_ but those were different times.

“Precious one. While you may not understand a woman’s needs, you know _full_ well that Cullen will not harm me. Let that be enough, _da’elgar.”_

Positively _petulant._ A tone he found and kept all evening long, then ne’er took up again.

_“I do **too.”**_

_“...Excuse_ me?”

 _“World expanding, spreading on the wind like_ _hahren Leamar’s looseleaf pages. A rushing life, an empty bed, a quiet man who sees this savage scornless. Hair on his face, behind his hands – where else, **where else?** Are they **really** sheathed like animals? Disgusting, curious. It can’t be true, it **could** be true. ...It could be **wonderful.** Forgive your lonely daughter’s unashamed depravity, o’ Hearthkeeper. But for the endless need of rigid warmth **you’ve** blessed me with, my soul would want for nothing._

 **I** can fix the burning, if you teach me. I don’t know what 'sheathed like animals' means, but I could show you mine. Would that help?”

Not once in life had Una gaped in shock, and she did not start now. Her hand left his cheek, arms slowly folding ‘neath her muslin-shrouded breasts. Chuckle. Stillness. A breath to speak. A halting tongue. The cycle then repeats.

Finally, the _tink_ of Una’s flicking fingernail ‘gainst Cole’s half-metal helm bought her the grace to speak.

“I…appreciate…your will to help. It is not done, my love, for a woman to take pleasure from a boy she fancies son. Nor is it appropriate for a lady boasting o'er a hundred seasons to couple with a blooming youth. Lastly, _da’elgar,_ the apparating vessel of your soul is _far_ from fully functional.”

"But I can sti - "

 _ **"No.**_ No."

Though his eyes admit defeat, Cole’s petulance remains. “…I _won’t_ leave.”

“If you insist, _da’elgar,_ stay. A Dalish woman rarely loves without an audience. Do pay me the courtesy of staying hidden.”

Cole nodded, satisfied with their agreement. His tone went brisk and easy, like a restaurant patron ordering his favorite side. “And if he starts to hurt you, I’ll kill him.”

Her finger found his face. “Without my word, Cole, you’ll do _no_ such thing.”

If Cole knew how to huff, he’d surely do it.

Just then, a timid knock. Una tossed her hair behind her back, heart racing with the night’s forbidden thrill.

“He likes you better with it up.”

A wordless bark of reprimand, fingers snapping sharp authority in Compassion’s moony face to bid him disappear. Naturally, the Inquisitor’s accommodating guardian complied.


End file.
